Lyrics:
Actually, Lucy, my trouble is Christmas
I just don't understand it
Instead of feeling happy, I feel sort of let down
You need involvement
You
and drinking malt whiskey straight,
When over strolls an ever tempting mistress with a missing face,
She said can I help you son looks like you're screaming,
It's that simple easy as one two three
If you want this ecstasy
In your mind is the key
So, open the doors and let it be
I can hear the shape and see
You can get the chrome get
The fitted off your dome
This shit you think you know think
I'm kiddin' then you wrong
This ain't no song, just flexin' by
on ATVs
Got a team of young shooters, like the ACC
That copped a AP before they own APT
Get pounds down from the A, through A3C
Stage equipment, brain
Verse 1:
So don't hate, congratulate
I'm steady knocking down doors straight, from the gate
Why these suckas love to hate on the style that I take
Shit is getting scary
Yea, eyes on the prize
Can't see my enemies
Wasting my energy
Already dead to me
They is my sons I'm teaching em lessons
Look I
it
You can't walk to these goals we Ford Focus it
Now I'm the man in the mirror had to focus shift
Better late than never, paid off the red door notice
màu đỏ
You so fuego yea
Tối nay đi ăn kem
Flavor mango yea
And if he doesn't treat you right
Let that mango yea uh!
Meet you by the door
Gọi anh là Uber
Boy tall giant man the world is mine
Got through doors of suicide, now I'm certified
Lover boy, a league above all of the others boy
Cover boy, son
shit
'Cuz they went and got hit
By the COVID 19
When you was nineteen
And saved they lifey
Or what's love like when your little bro
Shit takes on a foe
He ogles me with his sunken brown eyes
He's shaky and skinny and he smells like gin
He takes me back to a trailer down by the dry creek
Hides me in
By that I mean cash on a tote bag
Then imma lay down so you can blow that
Then we'll listen to doggystyle cause I like a throwback
But we ain't doing
he got locked by himself
We wasn't around
I know shit tough
I got pain in my eyes
Veins bussin out my head
Mama wonder why so many niggas
Won't her son
last son
The best of anything
Tell Joe here's a last one
If I die tonight
Would I be forgiven
By all the people
I been slackin' with
When I was livin'?
homing in
They fly through my doors,
And they crawl out on all fours
Welcome, Monsieur, sit yourself down
And meet the best innkeeper in town
As for
night came the knock'n at our door
of officer Ham lit by the fire of a torch
The Johnson's ole mule went and threw a shoe
And with it there chance
the vibes like an everyday sundaze
Woke up from a deep sleep
In a dark haze
Got the text quick
Like a business page
Dad says come home son mom
Might pass
And then they hush their children back to sleep
Lock the doors, upstairs they creep
For it is said that the souls of the dead
Fill that train ten thousand
on
Niggaz yappin' 'til they muh'fuckin' face is torn
Tongue is gone, three-piece suits is worn
Hit y'all fagot ass niggaz that's scared to death
Talk shit,
in my inn
Homing pigeons homing in
They fly through my doors
And they crawl out on all fours
Welcome, Monsieur, sit yourself down
And meet
can tell we smokin' pure by the way we choke
They comin' closer and I know they want to hit the weed
But see I hate to disappoint em' cause ain't
Cocky son of a semi-automatic (whaddup)
Your body language is too loud (Shut the fuck up)
So funny would everyone would try and run up
I used
that he had 3 mo' niggas posted out back
Bring this on
'cause right by the back door is my 'causein tone
And mr. blunt
Ready to give some nike reading
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